by Rich Kienzle
“Hiya. I’ve been looking for you. I’m George Jones.”
When friends and the media found out, the reaction was not unlike the public response to Johnny Cash’s passing. The entire music industry—country, pop, and beyond—stopped to pay tribute. The Opry reworked its Friday-night show to become a George Jones memorial, everyone singing his songs. The Saturday-night Opry continued the tribute. The arrangements were announced, and the May 1 viewing at Woodlawn-Roesch-Patton Funeral Home brought a raft of friends and fellow performers including Alan Jackson, perhaps his closest friend among the young traditionalists, Randy Travis, Ralph Stanley, Steve Wariner, and Joe Diffie. He would be buried in the Woodlawn Memorial Park in Nashville’s Berry Hill section, where, years earlier, George and Nancy had purchased a large family burial plot.
Even the Ryman, where George had first performed nearly fifty-seven years before, wouldn’t do as a site for the funeral. The Celebration of Life took place at the Opry House on May 2, 2013. Garth Brooks and his wife, Trisha Yearwood, sat with Nancy and her family. The cast of nonmusic dignitaries was impressive and included former Arkansas governor Mike Huckabee, Laura Bush, and occasional country singer and CBS Face the Nation host Bob Schieffer, a lifelong fan. In his eulogy, Schieffer said, “We all wanted to sing—everybody wanted to sing—like George Jones,” he said. “But nobody could sing like George Jones, unless you were George Jones. You couldn’t—because you hadn’t been through what he had been through.” Laura Bush thought back to the early years. “A hot-tempered father who was made mean by too much to drink, and a kind and long-suffering mother. Pain and love. George Jones spoke of them both whenever he sang a note. He sang from his heart and his soul. He sang for his supper in clubs and bars around Beaumont. And it was only a few short years from the streets of Beaumont to recording contracts, the radio, and the bright lights of the Grand Ole Opry.”
The music matched the occasion. Opry stalwarts Vince Gill and Patty Loveless, both close to George, teamed for “Go Rest High on That Mountain,” the ballad Gill began writing after fellow singer Keith Whitley died and finished after the death of his own brother. Overcome with emotion, Gill had serious trouble maintaining his composure as he sang, Loveless patting his shoulder as he strummed his acoustic guitar. Long known as a formidable instrumentalist, he began a solo that said nearly as much as his vocals. Charlie Daniels eulogized George and then sang a song George no doubt heard when he was a boy: the traditional hymn “Softly and Tenderly.” “With young singers who tried to emulate George Jones it was an affectation, while with George it was a God-given natural talent,” he said. He marveled at the way his friend would “hold on to a word, teasin’ it, turnin’ it, and make you wonder where he could possibly go with it. But then just at the right second he’d turn it loose and you’d just kinda smile, and admire . . . He sang for us all.” The always outspoken Daniels also took a shot at “cookie cutter sameness” that brought applause.
Travis Tritt sang an acoustic rendition of Kris Kristofferson’s “Why Me, Lord?” He recalled being on a movie set in Spain when he heard of Tammy’s death, marveling at the fact that George outlived Tammy (not all that much a surprise considering her own health issues). Alan Jackson, not surprisingly, reprised “He Stopped Loving Her Today.” The two had been close to the end, George never forgetting the way Jackson had stepped in to settle the score at the 1999 CMA awards. Amid all the traditionalists, Jackson seemed to have absorbed the most. Although at times Jackson’s voice seemed shaky, his rendition conveyed the essence of what George and Billy Sherrill had done through all the hard moments, and he managed to capture the true essence of the original down to the little bends and breaks that were George’s trademark. The applause exploded at the end. George was buried in the family plot at Woodlawn.
Seeing her youngest son falter so often during her lifetime, George’s mother, Clara, feared that she’d “made a failure.” In her time, it may have seemed that way. But in the end, the kid from the Thicket had realized all his hopes and dreams, battled and conquered his demons, and finally departed the stage in triumph. The voice that moved tens of millions over several generations had finally been stilled, and yet it was everywhere.
EPILOGUE
2013–2015
The modest bronze plaque marking his final resting place at Woodlawn Memorial Park was strictly temporary. Soon an artist’s rendering of the permanent memorial would be erected behind George’s grave. He wouldn’t rest for eternity in a crypt in an indoor mausoleum like Tammy’s, also at Woodlawn, or in a stand-alone edifice like the one Buck Owens built in Bakersfield, raffishly dubbed “Buck’s Place.” His grave site wouldn’t be a large, sedate affair like Roy Acuff’s at Nashville’s Spring Hill Cemetery or Bill Monroe’s in Kentucky. Acting on ideas she said George began formulating before he died, Nancy unveiled the plaque to a crowd assembled at the site on November 18, four days before the concert at the Bridgestone Arena. Billy Sherrill was among the attendees.
Topping the massive, elaborate stone memorial was an arch with the name JONES carved into it. HE STOPPED LOVING HER TODAY was inscribed into a section beneath the name. A large left pillar included an engraved portrait with homilies about his musical gifts. In the middle was a guitar sculpture, the inscription THE POSSUM, and an engraved photo of George and Nancy. Identical carved stone vases sat at the foot of the monument. His grave, a full-length bronze marker, featured four etchings taken from photos, one showing the adolescent Glenn with his guitar on the streets in Beaumont. Another shot from the darker years depicted him in aviator shades. Two others were lion-in-winter shots from later in life. An adjacent space was reserved for Nancy, and two benches flanked the graves. It was, in some ways, a more modern variation on the elaborate Hank and Audrey Williams grave in Montgomery, Alabama.
At the event, Nancy also announced the creation of the George Jones Memorial Scholarship at Middle Tennessee State University, available to financially challenged students in the school’s well-regarded Department of Recording Industry, which also offered a course in George’s life and music. The list of requirements noted that “Preference will also be given to letters that express some knowledge of or interest in country music, such as that of George Jones.” He would like that.
The November 22 Bridgestone Arena concert, titled “Playin’ Possum: The Final No-Show,” was revised into an all-star memorial show. The title alone reflected how time had softened the once-sour memories of George’s bad behavior into an affectionate part of country folklore, like Cash’s wildness, Hank’s tragic Lost Highway, Willie’s pot smoking, and Patsy’s hell-raising. With the concert sold out, an outdoor video setup projected the show to a crowd outside the downtown Nashville venue. The lineup was a generation-spanning Nashville who’s who encompassing, among others, Brad Paisley, Charlie Daniels, Garth Brooks, Lorrie Morgan, Montgomery Gentry, Eric Church, Ray Stevens, Blake Shelton, Miranda Lambert, Larry Gatlin, and two of George’s oldest Opry friends, Little Jimmy Dickens and Jimmy C. Newman. The show included a surprise or two, including Jamey Johnson with the metal band Megadeth, not exactly perceived as George Jones fans.
The outpouring of love and admiration for George would not alter the direction of the music itself. Taylor Swift had finally established the youth market that country producers had tried and failed to create for decades even as she was about to pivot to more mainstream pop. The formulaic nonsense George had long hated continued to proliferate in the form of “bro-country.” This successful but intensely controversial formula centered around male singers singing vapid ditties about hot girls, partying, boozing, pickup trucks, and related areas. Most of these acts seemed incapable of infusing these throwaway songs with any degree of emotion or nuance. Others, even George’s friend Kenny Chesney, focused on tunes heavy on beach themes, a sound Jimmy Buffett made popular decades earlier. Creativity in Nashville came from a few individualists like Eric Church or Jamey Johnson, who refused to follow the formulas. Also unwilling to play the game: earthier fem
ale stars like Miranda Lambert and Lee Ann Womack and newcomer Kacey Musgraves. Traditionalists and younger, edgier acts would continue to draw deeply from George’s sound.
Meanwhile, the Nashville of his peak years literally became a museum piece. The Country Music Hall of Fame occupies a massive new high-tech facility on Demonbreun Street downtown with a new Omni Hotel in its rear. RCA’s famous Studio A, where so many Nashville Sound classics were recorded, lives on as a working studio, a unit of the Hall of Fame. The Columbia studios where George recorded from the fifties on were repurposed as offices and storage after the label quit maintaining studios in 1982, ending the days of Studio A and Studio B, the famous Quonset Hut where George and Billy did much of their greatest work. Both were eventually resurrected as studios. Belmont University restored the Quonset Hut with funding from the Curb Family Foundation, established by Curb Records owner Mike Curb. Studio A followed in 2015. Both are part of Belmont’s Curb College of Entertainment and Music Business, whose many alumni include Brad Paisley, Steven Curtis Chapman, and Trisha Yearwood.
George, who’d had his first museum in his Chuckwagon Cafe in the sixties, was thinking along those terms again before he died. Nancy set to making that a reality. On April 24, 2015, the George Jones Museum opened at 128 Second Avenue North in Nashville, a couple doors down from the Wild Horse Saloon and only three blocks from the Ryman, Tootsie’s, and the site of George’s original Possum Holler. The Johnny Cash Museum is a couple blocks away. In a four-story, 44,000-square-foot space, exhibits cover George’s entire life, his boyhood in the Thicket, his years on the radio and in the clubs. His many awards, old Nudie outfits including the “White Lightning” suit, a coat from his marine days, and even the jacket cut off him after the 1999 crash are prominently displayed. Visitors can gaze on a mid-sixties John Deere riding mower much like the model he rode to the liquor store in Vidor and examine a pair of the “Possum Panties” sold at the second, Baggott-owned Possum Holler. There’s the usual gift shop, a theater and event space, even a rooftop bar with a prime view of the Cumberland River. An interactive booth allows visitors to sing along with videos of George singing his hits.
Served and sold on site: George Jones White Lightning Moonshine, manufactured by Silver Trail Distillery, already earning praise for its quality. The notion of a museum selling moonshine to celebrate the life of a man nearly destroyed by liquor startled many who knew of George’s demons and caused them to wonder if he’d have approved such a thing. Apparently so. The rear label, an early-sixties photo (actually the same cover shot from the album George Jones Sings Like the Dickens!), features a 2012 quote from George: “Alcohol has owned me and controlled me much of my life. Now is my time to own it.”
Time would claim more of his contemporaries and friends. Ray Price, the Hank Williams protégé and Texas honky-tonk innovator with whom George wrote “You Done Me Wrong,” passed in late 2013 after battling pancreatic cancer. Known for his stubbornness, he recorded a final album after his diagnosis and performed as long as he could. Jimmy C. Newman passed away in mid-2014. George’s longtime buddy Little Jimmy Dickens, “Tater,” who came to his aid at his first Opry appearance and partied with him on the road, died the second day of 2015 at ninety-four. Opry veteran Jim Ed Brown died in June 2015.
Whatever country becomes as the twenty-first century progresses, the legacies of past greats remain embedded in the music’s DNA, whether future stars and fans remember or not. It’s inevitable veteran acts will fade as time passes. A small, slowly expanding group, however, some still living at this time, will endure. Jimmie, Acuff, Monroe, Hank Sr., Cash, Patsy, Dolly, Loretta, Buck, Glen Campbell, Tammy, Marty Robbins, Waylon, Willie, and Haggard all remain touchstones, their music and narratives powerful reminders of what the music, despite the fad du jour, was and is supposed to embody.
George Jones stands in the forefront of that group, his stature secure even as his mystique and historical place continues to evolve. Beyond the demons and the triumphs, the legends and stories true and false, his music remains his most powerful monument. What began at that slam-bang 1954 session in Jack Starns’s Beaumont home and stretched over six decades, issued on vinyl 78s, 45s, and LPs, then on compact disc, endures even as technologies change. Now that natural, unfettered emotion flows digitally through wired and wireless conduits, via Apple Music, iTunes, Spotify, Amazon, Pandora, and similar music services of today and into the future, to be discovered and savored by current generations and those to come.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
One doesn’t embark on a book like this without enormous help from a number of individuals, some of whom I met during my research and others I’ve known over my four decades in this business.
Patrick Carr gave me the chance to write for Country Music magazine in 1973, a year after the publication launched. Over the next twenty-four years, editors Michael Bane, Nick Tosches, Rochelle Friedman, Helen Barnard, and George Fletcher and longtime editor-publisher Russ Barnard were supportive as we covered, celebrated, and critiqued the goings-on of the moment. The inspiration of gifted writers like Tosches, Carr, Joe Nick Patoski, John Morthland, and Peter Guralnick enhanced the experience. Russ allowed me to explore the music’s history to my heart’s content, one of the paths that brought me here.
I’m also grateful to those who helped connect me with some of my interview subjects for this book, John Morthland and Gregg Geller in particular. Texas music authorities Kevin Coffey and Andrew Brown, who’ve forgotten more about the honky-tonk scene than I’ll ever know, were enormously helpful. Andy kindly shared some of his relevant interview material and insights with me. Terry Maillet-Jones, librarian at the Beaumont Enterprise, and Angelika Kane at the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette were also helpful in tracking down rare clippings relating to George. Other friends at the Post-Gazette, some still there, others retired, who proved supportive were Allan Walton, Scott Mervis, Adrian McCoy, Matt Kennedy, Mary Leonard, and Tony Norman.
Other friends whose supportive insights made things easier include Alanna Nash, one of the pioneers of quality country journalism; Peter Cooper, one who continued that level of excellence; music historian Dave Samuelson; Dr. Travis Stimeling; Steve Weiss of the University of North Carolina’s Southern Folklife Center; and Mark Yacovone.
I’d like to acknowledge the work of the first two George Jones biographers: Bob Allen and Dolly Carlisle, who were there thirty years ago and whose pioneering research offered insights and context, as did George’s own autobiography.
At Dey Street Books, I have a number of editors to thank. The first is Cal Morgan, who initially suggested George as an idea, and Mark Chait, who took over when Cal shifted from Dey Street to other high-level editorial duties at HarperCollins. When Mark moved on, Carrie Thornton filled the slot, and when she became editorial director at Dey Street, Rob Kirkpatrick took over her duties. At the end, Sean Newcott very capably stepped in to handle the final phase.
My agent, David Dunton of the Harvey Klinger Agency, deserves special thanks. A musician himself, Dave understands music and music journalism on the highest level. He has been a pillar of support throughout, offering suggestions, direction, advice, and wise counsel when it was most needed. It is a pleasure and an honor to be associated with Dave.
Other friends, including Helen and Mary Adisey, Karen Hutchinson, and Jim and Michelle Albert, offered conversation about things other than music when the project seemed overwhelming.
Finally, I’d like to thank my late parents, Dick and Nootie Kienzle, who didn’t think the idea of writing about country music was a totally crazy idea.
SELECTED LISTENING
There are hundreds of George Jones anthologies out there, so this is only a select list of what’s in print. Some titles are available only on CD but others are also available digitally on iTunes, Amazon, or other streaming services. Many older CDs and LPs can be found on eBay. I annotated a number of the Bear Family, Universal, and Legacy collections listed here.
Starday: 22 Early St
arday Recordings (Gusto) surveys his first two years with the label, encompassing “Why Baby Why,” his original recording of “Ragged But Right,” “Taggin’ Along,” and some Mercury material, including a remake of “No Money in This Deal,” “Too Much Water,” and both sides of the infamous Thumper Jones single. Early Hits: The Starday Recordings (Time Life) includes the two outtakes from his 1954 debut session in Jack Starns’s living room, where his vocals channeled Lefty Frizzell on “For Sale Or For Lease” and Hank Williams on “You’re in My Heart.” 20 Original Classics (Gusto) assembles other Starday-era tunes, adding duets with Virginia Spurlock and Jeannette Hicks. Heartbreak Hotel (Bear Family) consists of thirty-five upbeat and rocking tracks from Starday and Mercury.
Mercury: Definitive Collection 1955–1962 (Universal) is a two-disc compilation built around essential Mercury recordings. 20th Century Masters: The Millennium Collection compiles the most important of these, plus a 1960 Nashville rerecording of “Why Baby Why.”
United Artists: The Complete United Artists Solo Singles (Omnivore) assembles both sides of his sixteen single releases from 1962–1965. She Thinks I Still Care: The Complete United Artists Recordings 1962–1964 (Bear Family) compiles everything he recorded for the label on four CDs. Vintage Collections: George Jones & Melba Montgomery (Capitol Nashville) assembles twenty United Artists duets, including hits and a few tracks from the Bluegrass Hootenanny album.
Musicor: The Great Lost Hits (Time-Life Music) This two-disc, thirty-four-track overview includes “Milwaukee, Here I Come” with Brenda Carter. George Jones and Gene Pitney (Gusto) samples ten of their duets. Bear Family’s identically titled CD George Jones and Gene Pitney offers the complete Pitney-Jones Musicor collaborations as well as Pitney’s solo album The Country Side of Gene Pitney. Gusto, owners of the Musicor catalog, rereleased some original Jones albums on CD and digital, among them Walk Through This World With Me, New Country Hits, 4033, If My Heart Had Windows, and Party Pickin’ (with Melba). Bear Family’s Walk Through This World with Me is the first of two box sets exploring George’s complete Musicor output. The first five-disc box covers 1965–1967, including George’s duets with Melba but excluding the Pitney material. The four-disc A Good Year for the Roses picks up where the first left off, covering 1968–1971.